Guest Post: 7 Reasons I am Better Than You

Hi there, it’s Saturday, so here’s a guest post. Curling up on the 7 Reasons sofa today is Horatio Pyewackett Caractacus Fearns who – when he wakes up – wants to explain why he’s better than you. And us, probably.

1. Fur. Ever tried to wear fur? No, of course you haven’t you timorous numpty, you timid wretch, you cowardy, cowardy custard. Because you’re fearful. You’re afraid of PETA. You think that if you don a fur coat you’ll be attacked by a mob of militant lefties who object to your sartorial decisions. But I’m not scared, PETA aren’t going to object to me wearing fur, because I’m better than you; wearing fur is my birthright, and I wear it as if to the manor born, without fear of reproachment. Because I’m awesome! Because I’m a cat!

2. Benevolence. I’m kind to my minions. Very kind. And I’m uber-agile, in fact, I can bend over backwards and lick my own bottom. But you can’t. You have to scrape bits from trees and roll them up into a ball in order to clean your own fetid arses. This is because you’re pathetic and incapable of washing yourself properly. But I’m not, I’m wondrous and supple and can cleanse my own ring with my tongue. Which, let’s face it, saves you a job, so I’m benevolent too.

3. Competition. So who’s the most awesome human that there is? That’s right, Superman. He can leap twenty times his own height; he can hear things that are going on miles away and he can’t be snuck up on while he’s sleeping. Well, me too. Superman, however, can be defeated by kryptonite. But I can’t, I can do all of those things with no fear of kryptonite or of looking like a dweeb at the fortress of solitude. Because I’m magnificent, and because I’m still rocking my fur coat while Superman’s attired in a thin, shiny number with his pants outside outside his lycra leggings. He looks like the world’s worst-dressed cyclist ever, and I just look amazing. Look at ME!

4. Night. You blundering dunderheads can’t even see in the dark. Want to know how many times I’ve fallen over a human when the lights are off? None. When oversized, underbalanced simpletons like you wander around without burning electricity, however, you’re endlessly falling over me (especially the tall one with the ginger beard). Because I’m abso-fucking-beauteously wonderful, and because I like to hang around in the hallway. To mock you. Because I can.

5. Temperature. You mewling, simpering feckless nonentities can’t even regulate your own body temperatures, but I can; I’m the master of my own temperature. The nearest you feeble people come to accomplishing that is the human inhabitants of the North-East of England: Geordies. But they lack my sonorous voice and natural grace. Also, despite their bravura, many of them die of hypothermia on their way home in the winter. But I haven’t. Ever. It would be a waste of one of my nine lives (eight better than you) if I were to do so, and I’m not prepared to do it.

6. Size Is Important. Just look at the size of yourself, you lumbering bioped. Look at the amount of space that your unwieldy, bloated, overstuffed body takes up. Where human designers prattle on about space efficiency as some sort of ideal, I live it. I am space efficiency. Because I take up less space than you. I can curl up into a tiny-weeny ball. Can you? No. Not at all. But I can. I’m fantastic.

7. Nature. I’m just naturally better than you. I am. When you poo, does anyone scurry around to scoop it up? No, of course not. You have to dispose of it yourself. But when I shit, one of my underlings comes and disposes of it for me. Every time. Because I’m a cat, and they’re not. In fact, everything revolves around me, abso-fucking-lutely-everything. Dinner is served at the regular hour at which I require it. Tradesmen come to repair the home in which I dwell and the humans who live here to serve me pay for it themselves. And, when they’re not feeding me or opening doors for me, they even let me use them as chairs. Would they do that for you? No, of course not. But they do it for me, because I’m better than you.